When I whine, god, I whine!
Feeling slightly like the toddler who's thrown a tantrum and comes back in to the room to apologize, I return to the blog.
I'm feeling much better. Three days, 60-ish comfortable miles later, it's coming together and I've a bit of momentum again.
Having met some friends on the trail who had the same chaffing problem I'm significantly less scared than I was. It appears to have happened because too much washing detergent was put in too small a load of clothes (it happened to us all in the same circumstances, at the same hostel). This meant that when I began to sweat, a fabulously abrasive substance was released from the shirt yet trapped between my skin and backpack. This lead to the redness, welts, pain and whining you all know so well.
While that episode was unpleasant, there's a big difference between a one-off, and the potentially hike-ending thing I thought had happened.
I'm now most of the way through the Shenandoah National Park, tonight will be my last night here, and I should be in Fort Royal by tomorrow night.
The park is beautiful, and while my small country sensibilities caused me to laugh at the guy who said 'it's only 10 miles across' I can now see what he meant. From the high lookouts you can see the woods give way to rolling fields whereas from the same height in the Smokies the primeval forest seems to stretch on forever.
The human patchwork of farms reminds me of hiking at home in Ireland where we've few enough forest left that the view is usually of farms and towns.
As it happens I've been hiking through the park on a weekend and I have to say there's something endearing about wading through scouts and being asked by a dying day hiker with shades on, hand in pocket, trying to effect an aura of sweaty nonchalance 'is there a shelter around here somewhere' like he thinks he missed the freeway exit.
We can go days between talking to non-through-hikers and it's good to remember there's a world out there.
I've scheduled the days since the last post, through to Harper's Ferry (the nominal half way point) and am sticking to it. This makes me stop after 20 miles even if it's still early enough to do another 5. Because of this, I'm more rested and in much better shape.
It's getting late in the morning here and I'm burning daylight, I'd best get going but I wanted to inform you all of on my improving fortunes.
Thanks for the messages and well wishes, they mean a huge amount to me. I'd love nothing better to sit and reply but I'd best be hiking.
T.
<p>(PS sorry for the relative lack of photos but I soaked the phone in a thunder storm last week and it's become incredibly flaky) </p>
Feeling slightly like the toddler who's thrown a tantrum and comes back in to the room to apologize, I return to the blog.
I'm feeling much better. Three days, 60-ish comfortable miles later, it's coming together and I've a bit of momentum again.
Having met some friends on the trail who had the same chaffing problem I'm significantly less scared than I was. It appears to have happened because too much washing detergent was put in too small a load of clothes (it happened to us all in the same circumstances, at the same hostel). This meant that when I began to sweat, a fabulously abrasive substance was released from the shirt yet trapped between my skin and backpack. This lead to the redness, welts, pain and whining you all know so well.
While that episode was unpleasant, there's a big difference between a one-off, and the potentially hike-ending thing I thought had happened.
I'm now most of the way through the Shenandoah National Park, tonight will be my last night here, and I should be in Fort Royal by tomorrow night.
The park is beautiful, and while my small country sensibilities caused me to laugh at the guy who said 'it's only 10 miles across' I can now see what he meant. From the high lookouts you can see the woods give way to rolling fields whereas from the same height in the Smokies the primeval forest seems to stretch on forever.
The human patchwork of farms reminds me of hiking at home in Ireland where we've few enough forest left that the view is usually of farms and towns.
As it happens I've been hiking through the park on a weekend and I have to say there's something endearing about wading through scouts and being asked by a dying day hiker with shades on, hand in pocket, trying to effect an aura of sweaty nonchalance 'is there a shelter around here somewhere' like he thinks he missed the freeway exit.
We can go days between talking to non-through-hikers and it's good to remember there's a world out there.
I've scheduled the days since the last post, through to Harper's Ferry (the nominal half way point) and am sticking to it. This makes me stop after 20 miles even if it's still early enough to do another 5. Because of this, I'm more rested and in much better shape.
It's getting late in the morning here and I'm burning daylight, I'd best get going but I wanted to inform you all of on my improving fortunes.
Thanks for the messages and well wishes, they mean a huge amount to me. I'd love nothing better to sit and reply but I'd best be hiking.
T.
<p>(PS sorry for the relative lack of photos but I soaked the phone in a thunder storm last week and it's become incredibly flaky) </p>
Funny that the science-denier drives around in a *car*.
ReplyDeleteGood on ya T, you show that trail who's boss!
ReplyDeleteTim, since when have science-deniers been known for their strong sense of logic and consistency across domains?
ReplyDeleteHugs. Joy. Courage. Pride. Strength. Determination.
ReplyDeleteLove
Sarah